Psychogenic
by Razer Athane
Summary: "You always disappear, Annie. But you always come back. And I will always be here." -Finnick x Annie- Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a small oneshot. A SMALL. ONESHOT. AND THEN IT GREW INTO THIS.

* * *

**PSYCHOGENIC**

* * *

"I don't know you. I don't _know _you."

When Finnick looks to the girl in the middle of her home, he furrows his eyebrows. How can she not know him? So he tries again, taking small steps towards her as she sits in the middle of the room, "Of course you know me. Don't be silly. Remember the rehearsals and the training? The Reaping? Sometimes I give you some of my catches..."

She manages to throw a vase at him. It soars strongly through the air, but the aim is terribly off. It shatters against the wall behind him in an explosion of white. He gets the message, though, and stops where he is. She shouts at him again to get out and leave her alone, but he can't do that.

Her voice has gotten Mags' attention from across the Victor's Village. She hobbles into the room, her cane in hand, and observes the situation. Finnick looks to her for support. She gingerly points at the poor girl and then out the door; so he speaks again, "Annie, come on now –"

"Annie?" she sobs, curling up, "_Who's Annie?_ Why are you both here? Get out!"

"It's the day of the Victory Tour. Your stylists will be here soon and so will the cameras. You gotta be prepared."

Annie does stand, but she starts screaming at them both. She finds enough hidden strength within herself to push Finnick away repeatedly, even though he'd made no further advances. Mags mumbles something, surprised, and manages to inch back out the front door and to the side as Finnick is pushed again. Annie is hysterical. Some of the other victors even briefly look out from their windows. They're different – they were volunteers, _happy_.

The things she screams make them both frown. Questions, mainly, like who's Annie, why is she here, what is this place, who are they and why are they here; and of course _I don't know you._ The same phrases over and over until the medics come from the main town. Finnick tries again to calm her down, but she punches him in the jaw instead.

The medics rush by him and grab Annie. He can tell that her arms will be bruised. She continues to scream and even manages to push a few of them off her before she runs back into her home. Finnick and Mags helplessly enter again, feeling their insides turn.

One man finally has her on the ground. He has a needle and is trying to get it into her neck. He knows it's a sedative – he can tell by the colour in the glass casing that it's different to the stronger morphling, as he's seen it before during the Games. On victors, on tributes, only to _relax_, not knock out. It's not uncommon, but what is different is the sheer _fight_ he sees in Annie.

Finnick shouts, "Don't hurt her!"

They don't. The needle sinks into her skin, and the effect is almost instant. Her voice rings clear just before she unexpectedly slips into unconsciousness.

"_I don't know you!_"

* * *

"It's not... _unheard of_ for Victors to suffer from amnesia," one doctor says.

Mags, alive with anger, somehow manages to gather up enough strength in her voice to speak clearly, though quietly, "And all of you never do anything about it."

They have been in the Capitol for a few days. The Capitol can't have their most recent Victor being so sick on the Victory Tour. It's been postponed, and there are revisions for tighter control and restrictions on where she goes, what she says and what she does. Finnick hears a lot of what the people around him are saying, but all he can do is look at her lying there on a bed, metres away.

It's been five years since his Hunger Games. He's lost every single tribute – his own, or ones he tried to befriend that belonged to others, like Mags' - that walked through those doors except for Annie Cresta. He'd felt a sense of pride when he watched her not kill a single tribute; but he'd also felt fear because _no one_ cared for a bloodless tribute. She's only here because she was lucky. She only survived to this point because he'd begged sponsors for their help.

Anything. _Anything._

Anything, to the Capitol, meant him. And as he'd done for the past few years to protect those he loved, he conceded, being used and held for a night just so Annie would receive a jacket or some food.

As he watches Annie stir slightly, he wonders what else he has to do to stop her from suffering like others did. To stop her from being unable to concentrate on anything, like Woof from District Eight. To keep her away from morphling addiction, like the pair from District Six; and away from alcohol, like Chaff from Eleven and Haymitch from Twelve.

It's not that Annie is special. He's sure that she is in some way, but he can't see it because he doesn't really know her. All he sees is another human being who was unfortunate enough to become a tribute. She didn't volunteer, and no one wanted to take her place. And at this point, he couldn't stand watching people _he knew_ die anymore, even if he wasn't their mentor. It'd been too late to save the boy – he'd been beheaded within hours after leaving the Cornucopia with Annie.

He just wants to help.

Annie bolts upright, shrieking. Finnick crosses the distance just as she covers her ears and rocks back and forth slightly. She even drags her nails down her face, leaving red marks. He grips her wrists and tries to pull them away, but she doesn't budge. He eventually thinks that she must be in the arena again, in her mind.

The doctor comes, scribbling down notes onto his paper and ready to sedate her, but Finnick tells him to leave it. Sedating can't be the answer to everything. The doctor scoffs at him but backs off anyhow, intrigued to see how the events pan out from here. In the end Finnick's right, because she stops rocking, places her hands in her lap, and looks up at him as calmly as the day he met her, "Hello Finnick."

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Why am I in the Capitol?"

He hesitates, "You don't remember anything?"

Annie says the last thing she remembers is getting out of bed to get ready for the Victory Tour. She tries to recall anything after putting her clothes on, but nothing comes to mind. She furrows her eyebrows, confused, and looks down to her hands, "It's a big blank. I'm sorry."

Mags is beside him now, reaching out to clasp both of Annie's hands with one of her own. She squeezes them tightly and offers her a sympathetic smile. Mags then looks at Finnick, who puts his own hand atop the growing pile. They'll get through this. The pain, the memories and what's to come.

* * *

Finnick keeps a much closer eye on Annie during her Victory Tour.

She seems okay in Twelve and Eleven. In District Ten, she only just manages to get out the rest of her dull speech before she begins to stare into space. Never at the dead tributes' families, and not even at the crowd. Just in the air, as though she's trying to take herself away from where she is or bring something back.

Finnick has to walk out onto the stage and lead her away by her arm, back into District Ten's Justice Building. Her team fusses over her appearance again, commenting on how her hair just won't sit still and that they'd need some kind of spray to make sure it doesn't move again. Annie's escort starts to berate her for this sudden mental shutdown, but when she realises that Annie's not even listening, she leaves. Mags just looks at her, clearly concerned that she'll suddenly forget who they are once more.

But Annie does come back, bright-eyed and confused as she looks around. She's about to turn and go back outside before Finnick catches her arm. Mags shakes her head, and Annie seems to understand a little better then, "I'm done with my speech?" A nod, "Okay... Okay."

Districts Nine, Eight and Seven don't care for what she has to say, and it's understandable. No one wants to hear what a Victor has to say because it's been said before. Thank you for your tributes. The Capitol is grand. How lucky it feels to be alive and the pride it brings. It never sits right with the people, but it's something that can't be avoided.

In Six she phases out again, but it's for a much shorter period of time. Finnick smirks when she disguises it as a pause for the dead. When they're back inside, he's pulled aside to receive some information on a particular client he's to see when he returns to the Capitol; and when he looks back at Annie, he sees the morphlings approaching.

They look worse every time he sees them. Their faces are sunken and their teeth are yellowing. He pities them because they're almost like they are forgotten Victors; but he feels anger thrum through his veins when he sees the male offer Annie some morphling. Something she should never have like they do.

"It helps to numb the pain," he says, gingerly placing it in Annie's small hands.

His eyes are kind and he means well, but Finnick is ready to march over there and knock the vial and needle to the ground. He doesn't have to, though, because Mags, who has a deep frown on her face, beats him to it. The items shatter as they hit the tiles, snapping him back into a sense of place.

"The Minister of Education has requested your services after the Capitol party stop," the man growls, stuffing a small card into his hands, "It's advised that you're on time. She's a hard woman to please."

Finnick merely nods. The messenger leaves, and he returns to Mags and Annie. They're all ushered away to another dinner.

* * *

As they approach District Five, Finnick notes again that Annie's covering her ears and is rocking back and forth a little. Mags has put both her hands on Annie's shoulders, trying to shake her out of it, trying to stop her. Her escort keeps proclaiming that it's an act before muttering about something else.

Annie's stylist is yelling that they need to get a move on, and it's that that makes Finnick snap, saying, "You don't have _anything_ to worry about except making sure she looks good. You don't have to relive your bad dreams. How about you go and plan her outfits for the coming districts instead of making things worse?"

"Who are you?"

Finnick's blood runs cold.

He turns and finds Annie openly staring at Mags. She then jumps from her seat and looks around, spotting him, "You again? I thought I told you I don't know you."

"Annie, Annie, please," Mags begs softly.

Unlike last time, she doesn't explode. She looks back to Mags and frowns, confused, "I don't know who I am. Am I Annie? Is that my name?"

Mags nods and places her hand over Annie's chest, "Annie."

Then the usual questions come – where, why, and so on. Finnick knows that it's an effort for Mags' to speak, and she's never been very loud, but he watches as she manages to explain to Annie what's happening around her. Annie vehemently states that she can't remember anything, but Mags mentions that that's okay. She doesn't have to.

"When this train stops, all you have to do is go outside and read from some cards that'll be given to you," Finnick says, "Then you can come back and we can all talk some more. Okay?"

Annie agrees. Mags drapes her green scarf over the girl's shoulders, spreading it across most of her outfit, and leads her to the train's exit. Finnick follows. Annie complains that the floor always feels like it's moving, and it makes her feel like throwing up.

How can she forget like this?

Contrary to what he had said, they don't talk when she gets back, though she read well today. Annie's too tired to and instead does as she's told – eat, change clothes and so on – and then sleep. She doesn't remember anything through District Three, though she remains more complacent than she had been compared to the previous incident. It's when they are travelling to Two during the night does her memory come back. She's screaming the boy's name, no doubt watching him get beheaded again. She once told Finnick that that was her main nightmare. When she doesn't remember, she doesn't have nightmares.

"You're okay, Annie," Finnick tries. His hands are around her wrists again, "You're safe."

"Are we in District Five?" she asks, trembling.

"We're heading to Two. We've already been to Five and Three. Don't you remember?"

As she pulls her wrists from his hands, Annie's lovely face scrunches up when she realises that she can't remember anything. Finnick describes both places to her a little, hoping to jog her memories, but it doesn't happen. This only upsets her more. She asks Finnick to leave, so he does, not seeing her again until just before she has to walk out to the crowd. He chooses not to notify medical personnel of the lapse.

* * *

District One makes him angry.

There are people yelling that she shouldn't have lived. That she brought shame to her district because she didn't kill a single person. That she wasn't even entertaining to watch. Even though Finnick's from a Career district too, he and a noticeable number from Four have never seen the Games like One and Two do. At least Two had the sense to keep quiet.

Annie's crumbling under the accusations. She eventually drops her cards, shuts her eyes and covers her ears. The roars of the people must remind her of the beasts – human or otherwise – in the arena. Of the tidal wave that killed everyone but her, even though she'd ingested a large amount of water just from trying to stay alive. Maybe even the cannons.

When Finnick and Mags walk out to meet Annie, the people in One go quiet at the mere sight of him. And he knows why. Because unlike Annie, he killed. Because unlike Annie, he had no delusions about what he had to do to survive. Because unlike Annie, who had tried to make friends in the arena, he knew that no one was to be trusted except for himself.

Because to them, he _is_ one of them.

Mags leads Annie back into the Justice Building, but Finnick can't find enough strength in his feet to follow. He instead glares down at the populace, and when they slowly slink away and return to their jobs, he realises that he is not as powerless as he once believed. The Capitol did not take away his strength.

"Finnick," Annie calls.

And that's enough to bring him back inside.

"We're going home now, right?" Annie asks.

"And then the Capitol," Finnick clarifies. The trip's not over yet, but it almost is.

That night she is the one who wakes him from one of his own nightmares. He dreams about people flailing in his net and the ease in which he drove his trident into their flesh. It's rare that he ever shouts during his own nightmares – he usually just wakes silently – but Annie does mention he'd been vocal. Her hands are soft, he surmises, as they run through his bronze hair. Annie tells him that he's alright. Mags, who has since joined her, nods in agreement and holds out a glass of water to him.

Hours later, they arrive in Four. Being home makes him a little happier. Annie is still her quiet self, but she does comment on how he seems brighter. So is she, because she can smell the sea once again. She diminishes during the speech, saying that she's sorry she couldn't save her district partner, but Four is understanding. Four doesn't judge.

Finnick catches the eye of his family and smiles. When he looks back at a recomposed Annie, he notes that she's just looking blankly amongst faces. He almost thinks that she's about to phase out again, but she then looks back at him, her mouth slightly open. And then she smiles back.

After dinner, as they're going back to the train for the final stop on the tour, Finnick finds himself asking, "Do you have any family, Annie?"

She looks to him with a frown. Her eyes droop, "No."

He doesn't ask about what happened. Whether they died or disowned her. If she's from an orphanage or remembers faces. They're questions he can ask another time – that he should've asked before, but didn't have the mind to. He hadn't been interested in knowing who she was back then, only in trying to save her and the boy for his own mental health. So _he_ didn't lose it.

He slings an arm across Mags' shoulders and holds out his hand to Annie, "We'll be your family."

* * *

From what Finnick's heard from other Victors, they're not usually invited to the final Capitol party at the end of the tour. Then again, in the eyes of many, Finnick is the exception – even Mags is not here. But he is, watching Annie awkwardly dance with other people. Her eyes always slide shut from the start until the end of every dance, as though she doesn't want to see what's on the other side. As though she's pretending she's far away.

He wonders what else is hiding underneath her skin. Things she's not told either of her mentors, or other people. If she dreams about more than just the Games at night. Her favourite colours and what she thinks of the Games themselves. How else she will change because of those horrors. Annie intrigues him if only because he sees her growing instability as unfortunate. Especially because Annie is much too kind a soul to have been subjected to the things she's seen.

She comes to see him from time to time, just to make sure he's alright. She says that he looks uncomfortable, but he assures her that he'll be okay. She even dances with him – he hears whispers wash over them, like sea foam – and then the music stops. Annie is pulled away by her escort. Snow's voice booms over them all, ruining what had been a nice moment.

Hands suddenly slither over his shoulders and then down his sides. In the three years he's been subjected to this untold side of a Victor's life, Finnick's trained himself not to freeze up at unwanted advances. He is Capitol property. He instead watches the light show, pretending that they're lighthouses, guiding boats back to the shore. His hands remain firmly behind his back, clenched into fists for a few moments before loosening.

"We are leaving in ten minutes," she says. It's the Minister of Education – he can tell by the way she enunciates every syllable, as though it's proper speech. He glances down at the hands that clutch the sides of his jacket firmly. The nails are neon purple, but instead of retaining a natural shape, the middle of every single one has had a wedge cut from it. It reminds him of a snake's tongue.

He suddenly remembers the visit in District One. And somewhere deep down, his strength surges forward as he takes a step away and out of her uncomfortable grasp. He says, "I'll not be going with you, ma'am."

When he turns to face her, he takes in more of the Minister's appearance. She is overly fond of purple. Her face almost looks like an abstract painting given the random markings. She is insulted and angry, "Are you defying the orders that were given to you, Mr Odair?"

"I'm not coming with you or anyone else anymore. I'm not weak, and I'm not letting the Capitol make me powerless," he says with more bite, but he smiles sweetly, "You can tell Snow that I'm done playing his game."

When he spots Annie a few metres away searching for him, he pushes his way through the crowd and joins her. She looks a little frazzled and her hands are shaking, but she seems to be okay despite that. And that's good, because now they can go home to District Four... where in six months another boy and girl will be Reaped and killed in the arena.

When he returns, though, he finds out that his Father and his two older brothers were killed in a fishing accident. His Mother and youngest brother are sobbing in the kitchen, mumbling things about an explosion out in the far ocean. His Mother rubs her eyes. His only living sibling keeps saying how he would've been on that boat too if he wasn't sick today. How he's lucky to be alive.

But Finnick knows better. He knows it's not an accident. He knows they're only alive as future leverage. And most importantly of all, he knows that all of this is his fault.

Even when most of the pieces fall, the Games never end.

Annie and Mags leave him alone.

* * *

The nightmares are worse after that. He sees their faces, what could've happened, what they could've said. His brothers who used to tackle him to the ground and try and stuff sand in his mouth, and his Father who would pull them off, laughing. Then his Father would show them all how to tie more knots.

Finnick feels like he can't breathe. The guilt is drowning him.

He still barely screams. He wakes up choking, sometimes on tears and other times on nothing. In these instances, he gets up and leaves his home, determined not to wake what remains of his tiny family. They know that he won't be far. Possibly at the beach, but more likely at Mags' house, because her silence comforts him more than words ever could.

But he ends up at Annie's, and that surprises him.

The door is unlocked. He pushes it open quietly and weakly calls her name. She eventually comes downstairs and sees him there; but he can tell by the way that she walks and looks at him that she's slipped away, that she's disappeared. She's not the Annie that he first met, the one that got through the Games. She's this other one, the one that somehow claws through.

"When did I get here?" she asks loudly, "Where is this?"

"You're home, Annie. District Four," he responds, holding back a frustrated groan.

"This is home?" she asks again. She watches him nod slowly and then nods herself, "This is home. And you're familiar. Do you live nearby? The woman... Mags? She said your name is Finnick, right?"

Finnick stares at Annie – this Annie – because he doesn't know what to make of her, of this condition, this result from the arena. He doesn't know how he has to handle her, let alone handle his own problems since the Games. The Games has ruined too many lives and taken away too much from everyone – only now does he feel the brunt of it. What Haymitch felt when he got home. _The loss._

His Father and his brothers were gone. It'd been a week and a half. His Mother and youngest brother remained out of the cruelty in Snow's heart. But surely there were more people Snow could hurt just to get back at him, the most popular Victor Panem has known in many decades.

When he realises his eyes are blurry, he sees it then. It's not just his Mother and surviving sibling that Snow intends to use against him. To hurt if he so much puts a toe out of line again. The other half of his family, the only other people he cared about that could be hurt because of him - it's Mags too, and Annie.

And Annie, who has no one, who has done nothing except survived.

_Annie,_ who's somehow become _important_ to him.

He won't lose anyone again.

In the end, Finnick drops to the floor of her house and cries for hours. He yells at himself for his mistake, he wishes that he could've spoken to them one last time. Annie sits beside him, unsure of what to do or how to feel; but she never speaks. She just sits there next to him, as silent as Mags; and when she chooses to place a hand on his knee, he finds himself grabbing it, like an anchor. Looking for something to hold him down before he cracks any further.

Annie eventually opens her mouth and runs her other hand through his hair, "I'm sorry."

It's simple. It's enough.

* * *

This Annie lasts for weeks. She is stronger, bolder. Braver. She tells him that her favourite colour is green, and then adds with a gentle poke to the end of his nose, "Like your eyes."

Finnick keeps expecting her to snap back into the other person, the real one. He keeps expecting her to suddenly forget where she is or what's happened. He doesn't understand what's wrong with her, but it keeps him on edge. It's like waiting for the wave to crash onto the beach.

Every Victor must have a talent. Annie makes jewellery out of shells. He stays with her while she learns, and soon she becomes pretty good at it. It gives her something to focus on – not that she needs it, because when she's like this, she has no nightmares. Annie is still complacent, and he thinks that she'll never be as furious as she was that first time.

She even allows the doctors to check her over and visit on Finnick's request. They just monitor her. Nothing major, just a few questions. She asks about the Games, but they never explain it to her. She asks Finnick and Mags, but they won't say anything. Mags thinks it's better this way – better for her to snap back to normal on her own. No need to show her what had happened, because she's better not knowing.

When she does return to normal, the first thing she asks is if Finnick is okay. The doctors ask why – she responds quickly about his family.

"I'm alright, Annie," Finnick replies from the other side of the room. The sound of his voice has her head snap towards him, and she relaxes entirely in her bedroom.

Weeks' worth of memories, gone. Like that.

She won't remember their conversations or the night he came to her. And by the looks of things, this is how she will go through the rest of her life. Jumping from between states, from one to another – and possibly even others. Forgetting. _Repeatedly_.

"Fugue state," the doctors tell him the next day.

Fugue state.

_Fugue state._

They tell him that it happens because of stress – he knows it's started because of the Games. They explain the condition to him and add that it's odd that she's goes in and out of so many fugue states so quickly, but he doesn't quite understand it. It never sinks all the way in, mainly _why_ it persists. He gets its stress, but surely there's more to it. Annie Cresta, the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, she with no one in the world except for him and Mags... would just forget who she was. She'd think she's someone else, alternating between people, between lives.

Her memories would vanish. She wouldn't recall the way that she'd become adept at making shell necklaces. She couldn't understand why Finnick was a little better, because according to her, they'd just got back a few days ago from the Victory Tour and found out the devastating news. What she'd liked, what she had done. Gone. They tell him that she could forget again at any moment and become someone else, someone that doesn't know him instead of the other person she becomes. That she'd change. They warn him that it can be for a few days, for a few weeks, or even months and years.

But then she would come back, and that's what stumped him most of all.

Annie would leave, but she would _always_ come back.

He thinks on it for days after the doctor's visit. Annie seems to be aware now that she's different to the other Victors, that she's sick – it's not right that she forgets large periods of her life. It saddens her, and Mags is quick to remind her that maybe if she thinks hard enough she can remember.

Annie even asks them much later, when they are at Finnick's house and eating with his family, what she is like when she's not normal. Mags remarks that she is mostly the same. He thinks that there's no point in trying to differentiate them, because despite the differences, they are the same. The differences are still a part of her, and they are still inside her.

The next day, he watches Annie carefully, when they're on the beach. Mags is fishing with his brother and Mother, but Annie's wondering how she knows how to make shell necklaces. She keeps saying that she doesn't know how, but her hands clearly remember from the other Annie's time. Her hands don't shake. They're graceful.

But the look on her face is exactly the same. The same concentration and will to make something beautiful.

And then Finnick understands. Annie learnt to cope by disappearing.

She learnt to simply vanish when the mental pressure got too much, like a hermit crab going back into its shell. When the horrors of the Games were at the forefront of her mind during the Victory Tour, she'd disappear. When she was forced to confront the people's families that she outlived, she'd disappear. When she saw someone she cared for break down, she'd disappear.

Annie places the bracelet back on the sand and then raises her hands to her ears. Another habit since the Games, but it's smaller and easier to deal with than the fugue state. Finnick does what he always does – he grabs her wrists and tries to take them away from her head.

This time, Annie speaks, "Don't, please... Their screams..."

So instead his fingers climb slowly up the backs of her hands and rest over her knuckles, waiting until the echoes of the past leave her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Finnick is called back to the Capitol three months before the next Reaping. He's obedient in every regard, now knowing that to Snow, this was never a simple game.

He's watching as some Capitol socialite – with _whiskers,_ even after all this time _the whisker enhancements_ still get him - attempts to give him jewels. She says it's because she doesn't like the way that his lips curve downward, however slightly. But she compliments him even as he denies the gift and adds, "I'll be giving your district tributes some water this year because of your services today."

"Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't want any gems? This one's apparently as blue as the ocean – you'd know, wouldn't you? District Four?" she holds it out to him, and it catches the light and the sequins on her dishevelled underclothes. She mutters something about needing more sugar cubes for her coffee.

Finnick reaches out and looks at it. He doesn't see the sea. He sees Annie's eyes.

It's here that he realises that maybe he cares about her more than he thought possible. Annie only began as a tribute he'd been desperate to save for his own piece of mind. Then he felt sorry for her. Then she became a friend. And what of now? What about the way she swims through his mind? The way she just... won't let him go.

"Doesn't look like the ocean to me. Different hue," he purrs, placing it back in her hand. Soon he will be able to remove this Capitol mask and go back to being regular Finnick, back home.

"I must pay you," she affirms, running a finger down his cheek.

The answer comes to him quickly, though he doesn't know where it came from – only that he's decided that Annie is worth fighting for. That she, like his Mother, his brother and Mags is more precious than any jewel, "Tell me a secret. A really deep, dark secret. That's my fee."

Words spill from the socialite's mouth without so much as a second thought.

He's expecting something to do with finances, or the way the Capitol is run. Instead the woman says, "I've heard that the President is thinking about putting Annie Cresta up for auction. You know, so that she works like you do, just not as often. Like a once a year thing I think? A treat. But she's not very popular in the Capitol, she never has been. I don't know why he's thinking about it, but I overheard it at a meeting at his mansion at a recent party.

"The Capitol feels sorry for Annie because of... well, her craziness. But you'd know more about that than I would, you have to put up with it after all. It must be such a burden," she doesn't notice the way his shoulders have tensed up, "But she's not desirable or _appealing._ Maybe Snow has something else in mind."

He does. And he knows what it is. It's to hurt him. He knows that not everyone is gentle.

When he returns home, he manages to phone Snow and offer to take her place. Snow asks why.

"Annie's too fragile, she's... Please don't."

Snow agrees to the proposition. Finnick in Annie's place. But he doesn't miss the opportunity to stick his thumb into the wound. That somehow, Annie Cresta's wormed his way deeper into his heart and mind than he ever expected. For someone who said at his Victor's interview that he didn't _need_ anyone, he'd sure taken to someone who needed _him._

That Finnick now has a weakness. A _real weakness._

* * *

In the year that goes by, nobody asks why he goes to the Capitol more often. No one except Annie – either Annie, any Annie - but he doesn't have the heart to tell her. Her Mother has greyed more in the months that passed than in the entire time he's known her. His younger brother's gotten stronger because he has to fish more. No, he can't burden any of them, but he's tired of having to hold this in for so many years. So he tells Mags.

She cries.

Ever since she learnt, she walks him to the train station every time Finnick has to leave. She holds onto his arm like a lifeline and begs him not to go. He reminds her that he's doing this so that everybody lives. He watches her wave when he leaves. He really loves Mags.

Back and forth, on the train. Into foreign beds and different arms, collecting more and more secrets. Only so that when he goes back to District Four, they will be there to make him laugh. To try and hold him together as he tries to keep the world from crashing down on them all.

Annie is as her other self when he returns. The 71st Games have been over for about two months, and she's watched the two tributes she mentored from Four be killed by a madwoman from District Seven, Johanna Mason. So she copes with their loss by hiding. He gets it. Finnick wishes he could do it too. He doesn't _have_ a coping mechanism. He thinks he should find one soon.

"I think I understand now," Annie tells him one day. Her hands are busy with shells. His are preoccupied as well, as his nails run down his forearms repeatedly, "Why you look at me differently. Am I two different people? Are there two Annies?"

"The doctors said that there's probably a lot of Annie's."

"But you're always here."

"And you always come back."

Silence.

She puts the shells down and grabs his hands to stop him from scratching. When they still, she takes her hands back and looks at him with a slight smile, "I went through some medical books that Mags gave me to read. She pointed to a particular condition. The terminology was a bit much but I think I got it. Fugue state – that's what's wrong with me? That's why I don't remember things?"

"Yes, that's what they told us. Maybe it's something bigger that they haven't noticed – maybe it's a little different, but that's the general idea. You go back and forth between fugue states when you're stressed. You disappear. But like I said, you always come back."

Finnick doesn't tell her about the few times where she disappeared into someone else entirely. Into someone who didn't recognise Mags or himself, who choked him when he tried to remind her. Or the times that she wandered away from the Victor's Village and to other random places, like the orphanage and the lighthouse. She doesn't remember, and she doesn't need to. But she still came back in the end, in her head and to her _family_.

They're quiet for many more moments. When he can't stand it any longer, he goes to leave, but she grabs his wrist and requests that he sits with her a little longer. Finnick's learnt that he can't really deny Annie anything anymore, so he does. He focuses on the waves.

Annie then holds out the necklace she's been making. It's a flat white shell, dangling from weaved, blue string. When Finnick doesn't take it initially, she jangles it in his face until he does and then speaks, "I made this for you, so you always have a piece of home when you go to work in the Capitol."

He thanks her and holds it in his shaking hands, "Do you... know what I do there?"

"No, but I know you don't like it. I know you well enough to know that if you had a choice, you wouldn't go, Finnick. It's the way that you shatter when you come home," she watches him put on the necklace, "I wish you would tell me one day."

"I will tell you one day," he promises, "Just not now."

"So when I'm other Annie."

"When I'm... brave enough."

Annie nods and stands to leave. She takes three – four steps away from him when he calls her.

"Where do you go, Annie?" he asks softly, "When you're like this."

She doesn't respond, because she doesn't know herself. He wonders how many times she finds herself questioning her actions, her likes, her memories; who she is. Her silence concerns him, but then she returns to him, grabs his face and crushes her lips against his before walking away.

The next day she is back to normal, and all he's left with is his own memory.

* * *

They meet Johanna Mason when she arrives in District Four for her Victory Tour, six months after she won the Games. Johanna frightens Annie – normal Annie – and puts her in bad places. She wanders off during dinner, only to be brought back by Mags. And then she doesn't remember what she's doing here and simply sits still.

Johanna is loud, brash, and arrogant. She had no problems killing anybody in the arena and she was very clever in doing so. The other Victors from Four think that she's one of the best Victors they'd seen since Finnick – she's smart, she's appealing, she's brave. Finnick knows where that will lead her.

And then she asks, poking around at some calamari, "So Finnick, do you really sleep with as many people as the rumours say? In the Capitol, I mean. Word has it that you even got your hands on – or should I say _in?_ - one of the officials in Seven!"

Cutlery crashes.

Finnick doesn't dare to look around the table. He knows Mags' head will be hung low. He fears Annie's reaction. He doesn't care about the other Victors. His shoulders feel like stone.

"You think I have a choice?" he spits.

"Everyone has a choice. You're just too spineless to take it. Who knows, maybe you _like_ it and just won't admit it."

Finnick doesn't know what to say. He took a chance at freedom, a chance at a choice and it killed his Father and older brothers. He wants to say something to Johanna about it, because _he knows_ Snow will put forth a proposition; but if he says anything, it's possible he'll lose the few people that he still cares about. There are words on the tip of his tongue that threaten to stumble forward, but they never make it out.

To his surprise, Annie, who'd been trembling beside Johanna, shoves the new Victor hard enough to almost throw her completely off her chair. Whether it is because of the nasty truths she said or because she couldn't handle her attitude, Finnick didn't know. But nobody went after Annie when she left the table. Their feet were glued to the ground. It was only when the dinner was called off did he begin his search.

He found her in one of the smaller rooms in the Justice Building, away from everyone. She's rocking backwards and forwards and doesn't even acknowledge him when he enters the room. She's muttering things.

Finnick calls for Annie, but she glares at him and says she doesn't know who Annie is. She yells at him to leave her alone. To get out. That she doesn't know who he is – that he _frightens_ her.

So they're back to this. The beginning.

Mags is the one who ends up taking her out of the room. Finnick simply slinks home in shame.

* * *

Mags bursts into his home nearly a week later. He looks up from counting the sugar cubes he brought home with him to find that she's pointing outside. He stands as she speaks softly, her voice barely rising above the sound of seagulls, "Annie's gone."

It's not the first time Annie's run off when she's in fugue state, but it's the first time someone's not been able to find her. The other Victors are looking around the village – some have even gone down to the market – but they all say that they don't know where she is. Finnick finds it odd that they care, but he supposes that they are all the same breed. They are all Victors.

He ends up running around most of the district, calling her name. Some people in the markets say they've not seen her. One says that she was here yesterday, giving away her necklaces, and then she simply left. His brother joins him later and says that he's looked around the beach and can't find her.

Finnick can't register some of the looks that are thrown at him. Some are probably confused – but all he can think about is the panic.

"I'll look around the cliffs and the water," his brother says lowly. He promises to be careful and runs off.

Later, someone shouts for him. They pull him towards the district border – Ten is on the other side of the fence. And he sees her there. She looks to be shaking, but she's still standing tall and glaring at the squad of peacekeepers in front of her, none of whom look amused or seem to recognise who she is.

"What's your name?" one of them asks, jabbing the butt of his gun into her chest.

"I don't know!" she growls, "But I would very much like to pass through this area, and you're in my way!"

Clearly they've had enough of her. When they aim their guns at her, she freezes, and Finnick bolts towards them and shouts, "Stop! _Stop!_"

They lower their guns at his voice and glance over to him. One speaks again, taking a step forward and gesturing to her, "Do you know this woman? She doesn't seem to know herself or how it is around here."

"You mustn't pay attention to television. This is _Annie Cresta._ _Look_ at her. Victor of the 70th Hunger Games. And you were all about to kill her. I don't think President Snow would've been too happy with that now, do you?"

"How can you confirm that this is Annie Cresta? She doesn't even know who she is."

"But _I do!_ I was her mentor!" he gestures at the people who are starting to come up behind him. Two of them are Victors. Mags is approaching, but she's not quite here yet, "The other Victors can verify this!"

Annie pipes up, her shoulders shaking with anger, "I don't know who you are but you can't –"

One of the soldiers walks up and smacks the butt of his gun across her face. She falls to the ground and in front of Finnick's feet. Mags hobbles over to pick her up, calling her name softly.

"She doesn't look like much of a Victor to me," the first peacekeeper snorts.

"And you must be new around here to not know that she is a little mad," Mags says, brushing some of Annie's hair from her eyes.

"She's sick!" Finnick screams, "What makes you think it was okay to do that?! She doesn't even know who she is!"

The peacekeepers stop, listening to a voice in their headsets. One looks up, as though looking for a helicopter; Finnick takes this opportunity to help Annie and Mags away from them. And soon, they're all away from them. The men don't follow, clearly being told to let it go.

* * *

The normal Annie returns three months after Johanna's stop in District Four. She finds him going through an oyster reef that's a noticeable distance away from the Victor's Village. His Mother's supposed to do it today but she's ill and he doesn't have the heart to stay at home.

"Is what Johanna said true, Finnick?" she asks him, "About... your work in the Capitol?"

The water suddenly feels much colder against his skin. He continues to look for oysters and drops them in the bucket by his side. Without looking at her, he simply says yes. He hears her intake of breath and then some mumbles. When he chances a look at her, he finds that she's fiddling with her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wasn't brave enough."

"Have I... asked this before? About what you do in the Capitol?"

Finnick nods and surveys the bucket. He thinks it's full enough, so he picks it up and starts to head back to the shore. He doesn't even reach the sand, though, because Annie runs out to meet him. She's never been one for sudden movements, so this surprises him.

She puts her hands on his shoulders and tries to look at his face, but he keeps making sure she can't. From the corner of his eyes he can see her frown, "I don't think any less of you."

He didn't realise that he cared about what she thought, but hearing it now made him feel a little better. So he thanks her and then moves past her, going back to his Mother, who by now would've heard the rumours that had begun to circulate District Four. Probably the other districts, too.

Annie doesn't follow him home, but when he goes to the market to trade some of the oysters, he finds her there anyway, giving her shell necklaces to small children. The children seem to make her smile – at least, that's what he noticed. Today, her eyes are puffy. He can tell that she wants to ask more, but he thinks that she went and asked Mags.

When they are walking back to the Victor's Village, she confirms that she asked Mags. Mags told her everything, because she felt it was right to. Finnick didn't blame her – its heavy knowledge, and he's thankful that she managed to hold onto it for so long. But then when they arrive at her house, Annie goes, "If you don't like doing this then why do you do it?"

He can't say it out here, so he enters her house. Only when the door is shut does he remark bitterly, "Because if I don't, then more people I care about will die, Annie. Like my Dad, like my brothers. That wasn't an _accident._ Snow did that, because I tried to stand up for myself. Because I tried to refuse a client. He killed them to remind me that the Games aren't over – and he can still hurt more people if I try to walk away again.

"Do you understand? That's what the Games are about. You kill people and if you're lucky, you'll get out. I never had to ask for anything, it'd always been given to me in my Games. You were lucky because you were hard to catch, and everyone else was too easy to see. But once you're out, you think you'll be fine, but you're not. Look at you. Look at me. Do we look okay?

"I won't lose anyone else ever again. I won't grow to care about any of Four's tributes again. It's about survival, and one of them will always die. I won't... watch people die. I won't be _the cause_ of people being dead!" he crosses the room and clutches at his hair, "I can't lose you, Annie! Or my Mother, my younger brother! Mags! I can't lose any of you..."

Annie crosses the distance of the room and places her hands on his face gently, finally getting him to look at her. Annie then runs her thumbs over his temples and asks, "Mags told me that you took extra work to... stop the same thing from happening to me. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"I didn't ask you to do that, Finnick," she chokes.

"I didn't do it because someone asked me to. I did it because I can't stand the thought of you being hurt anymore," he laughs weakly and looks down at his toes, noting that he's tracked sand into her house, "You're lucky, Annie, because Snow can't make you do anything you don't want to. He can't use anyone as a threat against you."

"You're wrong."

When her hands slide down to his cheekbones, he looks up and finds her smiling at him. She leans forward and kisses him, having to stand on her toes to reach him; and it's much weaker than what had been at the beach when she was other Annie, but it means no less to him.

"There's you," Annie finally breathes, "And if I had to give up my freedom to save you and Mags, I'd do it."

He'd never let her, of course, but Finnick still feels better.

And for the first time in days, he smiles, "You crept up on me."

* * *

Finnick is barely allowed home during the 72nd Hunger Games. Too busy with clients, collecting secrets; too busy being interviewed on his life... too busy being a Capitol slave. He's only allowed back for two months after the Victory Tour.

He calls his family as often as he can, but he's exhausted, depressed and so run down by work that all he wants to do is sit in the ocean. So when he does get home, that's the first thing he does. There is no one there at the station for him, on his request; he goes straight to the ocean and just sits.

The waves are always calming, but lately he finds that although he struggles to hold his Capitol mask to his face, he can feel it slipping. With every client he finds himself almost calling out a wrong name. And every night he wakes up screaming for his family, terrified that they are dead. But he knows they're not, because they return his phone calls.

It doesn't stop the feeling.

He's learnt to tie knots when he feels anxious – his coping mechanism. It keeps him grounded. It's a habit his Father used to do, and because he'd been particularly bad at knots as a child, it was something that he was made to do more than his brothers. The rope is small, but it's enough and it keeps him here. In the Capitol he'd tie it until his fingers bled.

"I thought I would find you here," Annie says.

"I thought I asked to be alone," Finnick replies gently.

Annie shrugs and sits next to him. She has a small bag of things with her. He assumes they're shells. From what he's been told, Annie has been dreadful in the time he's been away. Unpredictable, and always wandering. But she would always come home eventually – she never walked along Four's borders anymore – and she would always end up as herself again.

In one instance it almost looked like she wouldn't come back. His Mother had told him that for five months – he never wanted to be away from home that long again – she had established a new identity, a new name. She'd go out on boats and catch fish with the men. She refused to be called Annie. She only came back to herself during a storm and had no idea what she was doing out in the ocean, alone.

The idea of her not coming back scares Finnick almost more than losing her. To see her and have her, but it's not Annie... it'd be like seeing a ghost.

"How many people hold you just so I can breathe?" Annie asks.

"Don't, Annie," he sighs, making a new knot. He feels filthy enough.

It's something she asks a bit too often. He can't be sure, but he thinks that maybe Annie believes that if he talks about it, he'll feel better. In the end it just makes him feel worse. No one has comforted him better than Mags, for her silence, her gentle touch and her unyielding understanding. But Annie can't be in the Capitol with him, so she makes do.

The answer is too many.

She rummages through her small bag and holds out a shell necklace to him. He remains silent, staring at it almost in shock. The shell is brown, long and cut in half, "For you, so you have a piece of home when you go to the Capitol. So that you know there are people who care about you, even when it doesn't feel like it."

Finnick stops tying knots, smiles a little and points to the necklace he's wearing, "You already made me one for the same reason. See?"

She frowns and her hand drops, "When did I make that?"

"When you were in a fugue state, around the time I started going to the Capitol more often. I wear it all the time."

"I thought someone else made that for you..." she sighs, "I guess someone else did."

"No, Annie, you made it. You're the same person. It took me a while to understand it, but you're not different people. It doesn't matter what you remember or how you feel," she looks up at him, surprised to hear the life that's drifted back into his voice, "I watch you make those things no matter how you are. If you're normal Annie, other Annie, or a completely new Annie... you always have the same face. The same concentration and the same desire to make something beautiful. You are _not_ someone who is always different. You are always Annie."

He leans a little closer and kisses her forehead, causing her to shudder. He guesses the incident where she established that other identity and then remembering who she was caused her to doubt herself.

"You are _always_ Annie and I love every part of you. You got that?"

"You love me?"

He feigns a scandalised look, "Did you think I didn't?"

She shakes her head and laughs a little, "You just never said so, that's all."

"Some things don't need to be said," he takes the new necklace from her hands and removes the old one. The exchange is quick – the new necklace is on, and the old one is in her sweaty palm, "Tell you what, I'll have this one and you take that one. It's been mine long enough, so when I'm not here, you'll at least have a piece of me."

Annie really likes that. The smile on her face is unlike anything he has ever seen.

Annie crept up on him. Once he thought that made him weak because she could be exploited because of his feelings. But now he understood that it made him stronger.

* * *

Finnick feels that something is beginning to slowly shift in the world when he begins to receive phone calls from a few Victors in other places.

It's not that the other Victors don't talk to him, it's just they don't usually try to call him while he's in Four. They know that that's his down time, as it is for all of them. Being home and away from the Capitol is when no Victor wants to be disturbed. Then again, considering its Haymitch on the line...

"I'm not mentoring this year," Finnick says with finality, "I don't want to."

"At least you have choices in the matter, peacock. What I wouldn't give for a partner to trade years off with. As it is, there's only been _me_ for the last twenty odd years," Haymitch drawls, "I want you to mentor for your boy and girl for the 73rd Games. You can't keep hiding from it."

"No, _no,_ I'm not doing it again... I'm not doing it again."

"People in the districts look down on you, Odair, but that's only because they don't remember who you were in the arena. They just remember how many women you go through every time you're on 'assignment' in the Capitol. They don't remember how easily you can kill. You are a threat. What you know, and how you can help other people. You can help someone again. Aren't you sick of watching familiar faces get killed in that arena?"

"Of course I am, but –"

"Then mentor them, teach them how to judge a fight, when to run, what to do, how to smile. Teach them to survive like you taught Annie Cresta to survive. Help them like you help her."

"I can't, Haymitch! I know they'll die! One won't come out no matter _what_ I do!"

"So make sure it's the best one, kid. Save a life."

Haymitch hangs up after that. He's not the first Victor to have suggested that he mentors the tributes for the coming Games. He's just the first one to be so insistent on it, shoving it in his face. At least the other Victors ask how he is.

It's almost like something's starting to happen. Like maybe people are starting to stand up a little taller and look outside of their districts. Maybe there's even some uprisings happening and he just doesn't know it yet. And for some dumb reason the Victors are trying to wake him up from his life. Because all he's been doing is making others happy so that the people that make _him_ happy stay alive.

He looks to his Mother and brother, who'd listened to his side of the conversation. His Mother stands and places her hands on his shoulders encouragingly, "We'll support you no matter what you decide."

"I wish I could disappear," Finnick says, "Then I don't have to even _think_ about any of this."

He decides to think it over at Mags' home, where he finds the other half of his family. Annie is making Mags some tea, and they're both happy to see him, though concerned about him.

He tells Mags about Haymitch's phone call. She softly mentions that a lot of the other Victors in Four agree with the idea, but that they're prepared to take his place if he feels he's unable to handle it, especially because he's not scheduled to mentor this year. They'd just been too scared to approach him, because they remembered his ferocity, and they don't want to upset him. Victors stick together, the unfortunate and the volunteers.

A cup crashes to the floor. Finnick stands and sees Annie covering her ears and closing her eyes. He goes over to her and pulls her back to sit next to Mags; and then he kneels on the floor and simply let's his hands hover over hers, whispering quiet things to her. That she's safe. That she's home. That no one will hurt her.

When she comes back, she blinks repeatedly and looks around the place. She then places her hands in her lap, watching how Finnick's hands follow, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Mags says.

Really, Finnick is just happy that she didn't entirely disappear. He needs her now. He's learnt that he has the ability to pull her away from bad memories at many moments. That's what a lot of Annie's phone calls to him in the Capitol were about.

"I think you should mentor," Annie smiles, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

"No, _no,_" he chokes.

"You saved me, I know that. You should help someone else too. Will you do it? For me?"

Finnick can never say no to Annie.


	3. Chapter 3

The day of the Reaping, Annie enters a fugue state. She is a different and unfamiliar Annie, looking out into the crowd of people. Finnick notices by the way her bottom lip trembles as the names are read from the bowl. He hears some murmur in surprise that he's mentoring this year.

He can see it in the way Annie leads the reaped tributes to Finnick. This Annie is different because she is not brave like other Annie, but not calm like normal Annie. But something that he does notice is that she recognises him completely, that she's not shouting at him and isn't running away. Given how she glances around, he knows that she doesn't know where she is; but she doesn't take off. It's because he is here. She must feel safe with him.

In his mind he's already decided not to remember the names of the tributes. He can't get attached again – he only wants to make sure that one of them survives. His ultimate goal, as it had been with Annie. And with Annie, both inside and outside of the arena, he'd been successful.

The girl is thirteen, but she looks like she's ten. Finnick knows she's dead and that there's no point in trying. But the boy is seventeen and strong. He's seen him throw harpoons. He knows what needs to be done.

They're led to the train that goes to the Capitol. Finnick fidgets with the small rope in his pocket. The other Victors come to see them off. Annie breaks away from the line and stands on her toes to give Finnick a hug. He returns it hurriedly, surprised and well aware that she's not normal, even though the way she held him was.

"I love you too, you know," she whispers, and he's stunned that she remembers in fugue state, "But I didn't need to say it."

He laughs. It's _happy_. Happy because she loves him, and because for once, she _remembers_ something.

"You are _always_ Annie," Finnick affirms.

When they board the train and he looks out the window. He sees Mags waving, and some of the others standing taller. What catches his eye is how Annie's blocking her ears, but refusing to close her eyes. That she is in the arena in her mind, but is too focused on watching him leave Four.

He will save the boy. For Annie.

* * *

The boy is stronger than he anticipated. He throws a spear with incredible accuracy. One of the other Victors says that the boy reminds them of Finnick – of that surprise in the hidden power, and the knowledge. Only this boy is older than he had been, and a little less focused.

As they're watching the tributes train, Blight from Seven grins, "Why did you come back?"

"For Annie."

He scratches his chin and huffs, "That girl is mad. I don't know why you bothered to save her."

Finnick doesn't reply. He saved her because she is special. He will save the boy for her. He is here so Annie doesn't have to be. He is here so he can save a life instead of hopelessly watching them slip away. And to remind everyone that despite what the Capitol _makes_ him do, he is not their slave.

"Snow didn't think you would mentor for a few more years. He said you were uh, too busy with your other job," Blight chortles, "He was surprised to see you up front at the District Four Reaping. Well, welcome back anyhow."

When Blight leaves, the girl from Four approaches him and tugs at his arm. He turns to look at her and forces on a Capitol mask and a fake smile. He finds it difficult to look at any of their faces because of what he knows will happen, "Yes?"

"I brought you some sugar cubes," she proclaims with rosy cheeks, holding out six little ones in her childlike hands, "I know you like them."

"And how did you know that?" he asks, taking one and popping it in his mouth.

"There's always a pile of them in a bowl next to you when you're interviewed."

It feels good to laugh but it feels wrong to laugh so hard in the training centre and during this time. People don't bother to look, and he's fine with that. He tells the girl to keep some for herself and give some to her district partner; she does, but only after she makes him take one more. The boy ends up rejecting the sugar cubes, saying he dislikes them.

As he looks around at the other tributes, he quickly notes that, as always, One and Two are a threat. Ten surprisingly has a very strong girl who can lift some heavy weights. His boy from Four actually looks in with a chance. He has good skills and is strong enough to take down most of these people. His female tribute only looks stronger than the boy from Three, but he notices that she likes to make nets and baskets.

It takes some time for him to approach her again, but when it's just them in the District Four living quarters, he sits down with her and shows her how to weave grass baskets so tight that they can hold water. She asks who taught him, and he responds, "Mags did, but she does them better. Practice it."

He feels so cold and detached, afraid of any warmth towards these two kids. But that's how he needs to be.

That night he's called in to see another client. When he returns, Annie is screaming into the phone until it goes dead.

* * *

When Annie arrives in the Capitol, he thinks he's dreaming. But then Finnick realises that her screams the other night were of _fear,_ not from nightmares or a fugue state. Snow is forcing her to be here and there's nothing he can do about it. Forcing her to be a supporting mentor – or maybe Finnick's last client wasn't satisfied. He doesn't know.

His two tributes are looking at her with an odd expression. He can't tell if its confusion or distaste. Finnick struggles to hold up his Capitol mask. Annie's hands are at her ears and he holds his hands over them, as he always does. He says things to her, like he always does. But he really just wants to kiss her forehead. He can't.

He sits her down in and asks for an Avox to bring her a glass of water. The Avox nods and slips away, leaving the four of them in the room. When Annie opens her eyes, she looks at him as if he is a stranger, and his heart sinks, "Annie?"

It takes a minute, but her face does morph into one of recognition, "Finnick?"

She suddenly starts rummaging through her small bag and pulls out a letter, placing it in his trembling hand. He looks to it and then back at her. He can't tell which Annie it is, only that she recognises him and, judging by the look in her eyes, wants him to read the letter later on. The Avox returns and gives her the glass, which Annie drinks in one go.

He keeps expecting Annie to talk again, but she doesn't. She just sits there, staring into space, trying to leave. She only snaps out of it when the girl tugs at her arm.

"Sugar cube?" the girl offers. She smiles and takes it.

Finnick seems to relax a little at that. He stands and goes to leave, because he wants to read the letter.

"She really is crazy," the boy murmurs as he passes, watching as Annie rocked back and forth listened to the girl talk.

"And if you get out of the arena, maybe then you'll understand why," Finnick snits.

When he's in the privacy of his own room, he opens the letter and immediately recognises it to be Mags' handwriting. It's shakier than it used to be, but no less fancy, with a lot of letters ending in curls. He unfolds it and feels a lump form in his throat.

'_Your Mother and brother are dead. They tried to stop them taking Annie back to the Capitol. Snow is not happy that you are mentoring. Four supports you. Her fugue states are worse. Be safe. - Mags'_

Snow's not happy that he's mentoring probably because he is in high demand... and he wants Annie to mentor alongside him so that she crashes even further. His blood family died trying to protect the woman he loves, and now the Capitol is trying to destroy her. Now they're trying to make him watch as she breaks.

To his surprise, Finnick doesn't cry. He feels the grief and hopes that they're happier with Dad and his older brothers. Instead he grabs his piece of rope and makes a knotting game out of it for an hour. When he goes back outside, he sees that it's other Annie, because she is braver and _teaching_ his tributes the smallest things. Where it is safe to hide. How to test the water to make sure it's alright to drink.

Within five minutes he watches her revert and wonder why she is here. And all Finnick can do is tell her to go rest.

* * *

The girl scores five. The boy scores nine.

The girl takes the sweet and charming angle in the interview with Caesar Flickerman, who's hair is a blood red this year. The boy reminds Finnick _too much_ of himself when he was in the Games, in many ways except for intellect. Not that the boy is dumb, just... it didn't sink in. What he has to do. For Finnick back then, it did. Annie manages to take care of most of this side of preparations despite slipping away every so often. He knows that Annie can cope with this – it's when the arena appears that he knows she'll lose it.

So when they say goodbye, Annie makes sure to squeeze each tribute extra tightly, reminds them to stay safe and keep warm. Finnick fakes his Capitol smile at them both and watches the hovercraft leave with their stylists.

Annie begins to laugh unnecessarily beside him. He looks to her and finds that she's shut her eyes and looks to be disappearing. He decides to help her because she needs to disappear sooner rather than later. The Games might ruin her. If she disappears into another Annie, it won't hurt as bad. He takes her hand and says, "Think about the beach, when the waves are at their quietest."

She squeezes his hand and doesn't let go until she gets there. When she opens her eyes, she sits a little taller, recognises him immediately and asks what they are doing in the Capitol still. He tells her the Games are about to begin – she is aware enough of the Games to know that it's not a good thing.

"Go back to the living quarters, Annie. Please go to sleep."

It's the way he says it that makes Annie shrink under his gaze. The way that he looks afraid not of the events, but for her. She nods and heads off, and once she is out of sight, Finnick turns in the other direction, going to the control room where he will watch children slaughter one another simply to survive.

The countdown makes him shake. The arena is mildly mountainous – there's a few trees here and there - but completely dominated by snow.

The children all run to the Cornucopia. There is not a single one that runs in the opposite direction. They know that the cold will kill them if one of the other tributes don't, and Finnick expects most of the blankets and heavier jackets to be closer to the centre. When some get their hands on weapons, it's all on, and he can't stop shaking.

"What's this?" Brutus scoffs from across the room. He grimly notices that all eyes are trained on him. They want to see him react, "Is _the great_ Finnick Odair too scared of the Hunger Games? Too frightened to see what happens to his tributes?"

Of course he is, because except for Annie, every single one of them died.

Of course he is, because he's terrified of what lies on the other side.

They say that the Hunger Games is a game. That's how they advertise it in the Capitol – some people don't even know that the children are literally _killed_ and _do not_ come home. But everyone here knows it's so much more than that, even the Careers. And they all know that soon, one of those children will become one of them and be subjected to what they call normal. Nightmares. Addiction. _Prostitution_.

He meets Cashmere's gaze and he can see that she hopes that whoever comes out won't end up _like them_. Won't have to do what they have to.

"Not again," Haymitch suddenly grunts, rubbing his forehead.

Finnick looks back and sees that both of Haymitch's tributes have been killed in the bloodbath. District Ten's girl leans above them both with a large butcher knife in hand. The tributes from One and Two are coming towards her. The boys from Three and Eight and the girl from Six are already dead.

"You," Cecelia, the mentor from Eight rasps, "You shouldn't be here."

When Finnick turns his head, he sees Annie standing in the middle of the room, watching the screens. She's settled on his screen, being from the same district and having managed to bond with the tributes, and she's completely immobile. Like she's frozen in another time, or that she feels she can't move until she sees that both tributes are safe. Her hands lie limply by her sides.

She's breaking.

He moves from his position, ascends the small stairs and tries to cover her eyes and ears, "Annie, I told you to go back to the room."

"Finnick, get her out of here," Cecelia says, running her bony fingers through her hair, "What is she even doing in the Capitol? She shouldn't be in this room, she's not like you. She's not strong. _Get her out._"

The words echoed in his head. She's not strong. No, Annie is stronger than anyone knows. But not in this. Not here.

There's a scream from his monitor. Annie grabs both of his hands and moves them aside before he knows what's happened. Finnick looks over his shoulder to find his female tribute's been beheaded by the boy from Seven. Just like Annie's district partner had been in her Games three years earlier. Of all the ways...

He looks at her face briefly. She's broken. She's disappeared.

"Annie, Annie," Finnick begs, trying to lead her down the corridor, "I told you to go back!"

Suddenly his arms pull down, like there's more weight than expected. When he looks behind him, his throat goes dry. Annie's fainted entirely. He shakes, knowing that he can't leave her here or abandon his only remaining tribute. A glance up at the screen shows that he's trudging through the snow and away from people as fast as he can, but he's being pursued. He has a small backpack and a tiny knife.

He kneels down and shakes Annie, but when she doesn't come to, he sees Avoxes appear, holding out their hands, offering to take her back to District Four's living quarters. Finnick nods and watches her disappear down the corridor before returning to his station.

The boy is alive.

* * *

Finnick has to remember to buy Haymitch some really nice wine at the end of the Games.

He'd been desperate to go after Annie once the bloodbath was over and as night fell, but he didn't want to abandon the boy. He promised Annie he would save someone, but Annie needed him. Haymitch offered to watch over the boy and call him if anything happened, "It's not like I have anyone to look after."

He's back with Annie now in the room. She's awake but she hasn't moved from her seat. Her eyes are wider than usual, rimmed with unshed tears. She doesn't rock, she doesn't clap her hands over her ears, she just does... nothing.

Nothing at all.

Finnick's got one of her hands between both of his. His thumb circles her knuckles slowly. Every so often he says her name, trying to bring her back. But he knows that this time she's disappeared further than ever before. He might not even be able to get her back.

If Annie is lost, then Finnick will be too.

He thinks about what the doctors said to him. How she would forget when she's in fugue state, and remember nothing of being _in_ it... but he's been noticing how in the past year she'd forget most things, but not every single thing. Maybe the condition changed, or maybe this is entirely new. She remembers how to make shell necklaces no matter which way she goes. She remembers the sound of the shore and to stay away from the district perimeters. She remembers him.

"You always come back," Finnick says, raising her hand to kiss the back of it, "Don't wander too far this time, please. I need you."

Annie still doesn't move, but her fingers do twitch. He releases a small puff of air, unaware that he'd been holding onto it. Exhaustion begins to seep into his bones, so he lies back in the sofa, slouching but never letting go of her hand. He eventually falls asleep beside her, but he doesn't know how long for.

It's only when Haymitch phones him, asking to leave does he wake up, part from a now dozing Annie and return to the control room.

"Your boy is fine," Haymitch says, rubbing his grey eyes, "A bit sore but he's surviving. His pack had a blanket, some really good rope and a small packet of biscuits. I sent him some better food. The night's cold but the blanket is a bigger one compared what the others got. It's got better padding. How's Annie?"

Finnick gives a non-committal shrug. He knows Haymitch would understand, but he doesn't want suggestions on how to cope from an alcoholic. When he leaves, Finnick pulls out his rope and begins to tie knots. He watches as his tribute shivers through the night, but has small spoonfuls of soup so hot that he can see the steam rising from the bowl.

He mentally reminds himself to get two bottles for Haymitch instead of one.

* * *

Day five of the Games sees most of the tributes dead.

His boy had fashioned a spear with the rope and knife, having salvaged part of a strong tree branch. It was solid work – literally everyone was impressed that it hadn't broken yet. He killed about four tributes. Most of the others died from the cold. All that remains now is him, the boy from One and the girl from Ten.

Finnick feels dazed and stretched thin. He looks after Annie when he can, who is only just beginning to eat and drink properly. She had to go to the hospital at one point to check over her vitals, but she wouldn't speak. He knows she recognises him still, because her eyes will widen a little whenever he appears. A familiar face.

He sends his tribute as much as he can. Flints to make a small fire, salve for wounds, bread from home... His clients, which seemed to be more now than ever, paid for these items for his tribute, which only adds to his exhaustion. He's worked out code with the boy, warning him of whenever other tributes are nearby by putting a picture of a shark at the end of his message. Because sharks, back home, were dangerous; and the kid was smart enough to work it out.

Despite his better judgement, Finnick had to bring Annie in today. She's too fragile to be left alone, and he couldn't find anyone to look after her. So now he has to watch out for two people and make sure that Annie doesn't see any death, because he knows that if she sees it, she won't come back. He will lose his Annie.

Cashmere, from time to time, shoots him a sympathetic look. Brutus, who still wanders around the vicinity even though he has no tributes left, rolls his eyes. Haymitch is often too drunk to do anything, but he stays in the room because there's nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. He's promised to take Annie away if anything happens, though, and for that he's grateful. Cecelia had to go home to see her children.

He knots and unknots the well-worn rope between his fingers. Today they are caked with blood, like they always are at the end of the day; but the Capitol stylists always come and surgically fix it up before he sees a client. Something about having to maintain his perfect image. He doesn't listen. He doesn't care.

Finnick stops when he hears a rumbling. He looks around the other monitors, confirming his suspicions. The arena is changing. Today will be the last day of the Games – they are trying to push the tributes together.

It's an avalanche.

"Haymitch," Finnick calls. He hears the man grumble, get up, and with the help of an Avox, lead Annie back to Four's living quarters.

Their screens are blanketed in white from time to time, but by the end of the avalanche, all three tributes are within metres of each other in the same part of the arena.

The boy from One attacks first. He loves throwing knives. His tribute and the girl from Ten are slow to react – he's fine, but one of the knives lodges itself into her shoulder. The fight's all on, then, and Finnick imagines that after what the Capitol would call such a _boring _game, a three-way fight to the death would cheer them up.

Beside him he grabs a sugar cube – he can't not think of his dead female tribute at the moment, who according to her stylist had a crush on him – and sucks on it for a while. It's a Capitol habit he's picked up and become fond of, because it's simple. Its simple compared to the over-the-top, complex way of Capitol life.

The girl from Ten charges at both boys, swinging her longer, larger knife this way and that. The girl has been probably the most impressive of all in the Games, but he hasn't given up on his tribute. She cuts up his arm, and then turns to the boy from One, stabbing him in the thigh.

Both Finnick and his tribute realise at the same time the advantage he has - _distance_. His opponents need to be close to kill – _he doesn't._

And for the first time since Annie surfaced in that tidal wave, Finnick can feel hope searing through his body.

The boy from One goes down first with a sharp jab to the chest and a surprised face, frozen forever. He pulls out the spear with little difficulty, a testament to how he made it. The girl looks to his tribute, furrowing her eyebrows. His tribute knees her in the face, forcing her back. The impact makes her drop her knife, but she picks it up before a killing blow is delivered.

"Please, _please_," Finnick whispers.

He takes four steps back, out of range from the girl's weapon, but still within his spear's striking distance. She's struggling to get to her feet because she's clearly still dizzy, and the environment doesn't provide solid footing. It's when she slips down onto one knee that Finnick knows. _He knows._

The boy throws the spear right through her body. She collapses. The final cannon sounds.

Finnick curls up in a ball on his chair and tries to even out his shuddering breath.

He did it.

The boy is alive. The boy won. District Four's new Victor.

* * *

The boy's brought back to the infirmary by hovercraft. There are some wounds that are patched up, and there are scars that soon vanish underneath Capitol treatment. Finnick is there when the boy wakes, ready to jump out of his skin.

"You won," Finnick says.

He looks at his mentor, confused, before the reality of the words sink in. He looks down at his hands, "What did I win, though?"

"That's the thing," Finnick begins, closing the distance between them. They are alone, and he can say as he pleases, "What _did_ you win? What do _any_ of us win? Well, we won the right to live out the rest of our lives in relative peace. To survive and see our loved ones... but there are some who aren't so lucky.

"I'm warning you now that there is a good chance Snow will try to make you do things you don't want to do. If you don't do them, he kills someone you love. Johanna and Haymitch from Districts Seven and Twelve can confirm that. If you do everything he says, though, they will live. You'll feel bad, you'll feel like crap, but... they will live. And they make you happy and will help you through the trauma you're sure to face. And that's enough."

His words are weighed up. The boy looks back up at him, "Is every Victor made to do things they don't want to do?"

"No, but I'm one of them."

"And Annie?"

"I took her place."

There's silence. The boy soon asks for Annie, but Finnick tells her that she can't come see him right now. He explains that she's disappeared in her mind for a little while, but he promises that when she comes back, he will bring her to him.

Finnick's hands are shaking behind his back. He swallows, "What's your name?"

"Ron," he says, smiling.

He nods a little, "Do you know why I never asked about your name before?"

"Because you thought I was going to die. You thought there was no point in getting attached; but now that I am alive, maybe it's worth asking," Finnick moves to apologise, but Ron holds up his hand and shakes his head, "I probably would've done the same... I think I will be doing the same. I don't want the Games to damage me anymore than they have."

The doors burst open. Both boys turn to find Annie there, shaking and crying. An Avox is behind her.

"You're alive," she sobs, "One of you made it out, you're alive, you're alive..."

Ron nods, smiling once again. Annie approaches them both slowly and grasps both of their hands. Ron babbles about how he's excited to go home and see his family, and how the district will be a little better off in the coming year with the extra food. He thanks the both of them for their help and literally talks himself to sleep.

Annie slips her hand away from Ron and simply watches his sleeping face. Finnick asks quietly, "Annie? Are you with me?"

She looks to him and raises her free hand, brushing her knuckles against his cheek, "You should know by now, Finnick – I'll always come back."

* * *

When they all arrive back in Four, the first thing Finnick does is sit on the beach away from everyone and remember his blood family. He didn't want anyone to die, but this is the world he lives in. This is the way things are, and he hates that he can't change it. One day he hopes he can, for them.

Mags finds him there and tries to pull him back to the Victor's Village, mumbling things about an unwanted visitor. She's become much quieter in the last few years, her voice barely rising from her throat, but Finnick can still hear and understand her.

They slowly walk back to the Victor's Village holding hands. Once they pass under the entryway he can see an entourage of soldiers guarding every single home, particularly his. He knows those uniforms. There's not many people who would require that much protection that'd visit him personally.

He expects Snow, but when he goes into his house, it's actually Seneca Crane, the Head Gamemaker for the past few years.

Mags pats the small of his back comfortingly before turning away and leaving. He doesn't watch her go, instead briefly wondering how someone can shave such an intricate stubble pattern on his face. Seneca looks around the house briefly before asking, "Aren't you going to offer me something to eat or drink?"

He blinks before nodding a little, trying to reinstate his Capitol mask. In his kitchen he manages to grab a few stray sugar cubes and put them in a bowl, bringing it out and holding it up to him. Seneca raises an eyebrow before consuming a few in silence. Finnick then asks, "Why are you here?"

"To congratulate you on your success, of course," he chimes with a tiny smirk, "It was nice to see you mentoring again instead of being with your many clients, but Snow wasn't happy with that. He asked me to personally deliver some news."

He knows that Snow wasn't happy with his decision. Finnick's best use to the President is as a Capitol slave is to the people, not to the tributes. That's why Snow had ordered Annie Cresta to join him, hoping to break her further to punish him. But Finnick, despite the losses, had won that fight. He says nothing and watches as Seneca looks around his house.

"Snow wanted me to tell you that the next time you try to mentor again without his approval, he will torture and kill your own mentor and both your Victors himself. And he'll make you watch. I don't think crazy Annie Cresta would like to be forced to observe every single Games ever, do you? She might just cut off her _own_ head from the sight. Saves some bullets."

Finnick shakes his head, "Annie's done nothing wrong."

"But _you_ did, and if you do it again, she'll be the consequence! I suggest that you don't make your own _decisions_ about tributes until you're next scheduled to mentor. Your life is dictated by the Capitol, and if you want your loved ones to survive, you should _follow it_."

Mags, Annie. Even Ron.

"I can never do anything right, can I?" Finnick asks slowly. Is there even a point in trying to make a difference?

He pauses and regards him from across the room. He sucks on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking again, "Ron is scheduled to be Four's mentor for the 74th Hunger Games. What happens in the Quarter Quell, well, we'll see."

Seneca is almost out the door when Finnick calls his name, "I'm not fourteen anymore. I'm not nineteen anymore. I'm twenty-two. I know the difference. I know what needs to be done, and how to do it. _It's a Game_, after all. I'll keep playing."

He doesn't want to, but he has to; and when Seneca is gone, Mags comes back in and regards him carefully. She hobbles forward with her cane and gently rubs his arm.

"I want to help, Mags. People can't live like this. I want to make a difference, but I don't know how I can do that safely."

She points to the phone, "Haymitch."

Call Haymitch, because he can set something up, get some wheels turning. Everyone knows that Haymitch knows some things, but he keeps them to himself because alone he can't make a difference. Everyone knows that it's like Haymitch is waiting for the right time, the right person; the right idea.

When the drunkard answers the phone, Finnick spits out, "The Minister of Defence's wife told me three secrets in the past week. I thought you'd wanna know what they are."

"Did you send this bottle of _fancy _wine over?"

"I sent two bottles."

"Huh... I can't find one. One of the Seam kids might've taken it... Well, peacock, these secrets – what are these secrets that are so important you decided to wake me up?"

The words are out in quick succession.

Civil unrest. Uncertainty. Thirteen.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron's Victory Tour is easier than Annie's, because Ron knows not to show weakness in front of the crowd. He's not like Annie had been, immediately damaged by the Games. He's more like Finnick in that regard – it'll be a slow burn. And it could possess him.

Annie does struggle. She mainly stares into space and then looks back at him, just to make sure that he's there. She mentions that she feels like she doesn't know who she is anymore, only that she's going to be fine if Finnick is nearby. That no matter how she feels, she always remembers him as someone she can trust, as safety.

"You are _always_ Annie," Finnick repeats from beside her, watching as Ron delivers his speech to District Seven.

Days later, as they're leaving District Seven to go to Six, she shakes all over and realises that she's completely unfamiliar with everything around her in the train. Ron shouts for Finnick, and he runs in from another carriage. Annie settles a little then, but she covers her ears. So he puts his hands over hers, as always, and says, "Stay with me."

That night Ron confesses to him that he's started having nightmares.

"They'll never go. The faces won't leave. You will remember them forever," Finnick sighs.

"Do you still remember? It's been nearly ten years."

"I do, and I know Annie does as well. Even Mags does but she tells me that the faces aren't as clear as they used to be. Understandably so given how old she is and how many tributes she's had to push through that godforsaken arena. But she says they don't leave. She remembers what she killed them with, what their last words were..."

The doors suddenly open, and Annie enters. Ron is surprised to see her and asks how she is. She fiddles with her necklace and answers with queries of her own, "Can you please help me? I don't know where I am. Who are you both?"

Finnick suddenly feels like crying, "Please, _please_ don't do this again Annie."

"Who's Annie?"

He can't cope, so he leaves, looking for rope.

How many steps forward will she take before she takes double the amount back? How many times will she look at him like he's familiar and then completely forget who she is? How can – _how can_ someone go in and out of fugue state so often? Were the doctors wrong, or did she just get worse? Were there others as bad as her, or was she a special case?

When he passes through the main room, he sees the stress that caused Annie to disappear. They're replaying the past three Games where there was a District Four winner. Ron's, Annie's, and his own.

He sees Ron throw his spear into the girl from Ten; and then Caesar brings up new footage and compares it to Finnick in the 65th Hunger Games. So young, only fourteen, and with a very similar throw. He watches his beloved trident soar through the body of the older District Three boy, one of his later, but not final kills. Caesar theorises that Finnick taught Ron how to do that. And then they compare Ron's avalanche to Annie's tidal wave. The sheer terror on Annie's face makes him slump.

Caesar says that Annie got through on luck, and that Ron won because of his observations. Then he smiles and laughs, "And Finnick won because he was vicious! Or should I say he still is?"

Him. Vicious. Not pretentious, but vicious.

He blinks away the tears and manages to find his rope in his room. He knots and unknots it until it snaps from use, and then manages to drift off into sleep.

But Annie – normal Annie, out of fugue state, _his _Annie - wakes him from the bad memories flashing behind his eyelids, "You're screaming again Finnick, wake up."

Too caught up in the nightmares, he ends up harshly throwing her to the floor. When he hears her scream he snaps from his haze and, looking down at what he'd done, he starts to cry.

* * *

At dinner in Six, like on Annie's tour, the male addict tries to offer Annie some morphling. He places both his hands over the items, and Finnick watches as he babbles about how it'll make it easier to sleep, easier to forget, "It numbs the pain. It makes it easier to disappear, Annie. So much easier to disappear. I know you like to disappear..."

Contrary to how he felt a few years ago, Finnick now thinks that the morphling might help Annie. He asked the doctors about what they could do for someone with her condition and they said they didn't know. He asked if morphling would help, and they said it could in regards to the stress, but it'd have to be very small doses due to its strength.

So he lets Annie take the needle and glass casing from the addict, but she doesn't give herself any. She just holds onto it and studies it, watching the liquid slosh around.

Annie ends up walking over to Finnick, putting the items in one of her dress pockets, "I don't want to be like him, but if it'll help... Maybe if I only use a little bit of it when I really need to."

"I won't let you become like him," Finnick says, "but the doctors did say it could help."

"I'll try it next time, when I feel like I really, really can't cope."

She ends up using it in Four, when they show the face of the dead girl. Ron orders a moments silence for her, saying she was too young and too sweet... like the sugar cubes she loved to share. Annie is far enough in the shadows to inject herself under Finnick's watchful eye.

He can see her beginning to slip away and into fugue state. Staring into space. Squeezing her eyes shut. But then there's nothing. She doesn't suddenly become brave or unaware of what's around her – she is still the same, calm, normal Annie. And for once he's grateful of the Capitol's ways. He feels Annie's fingers drift down the middle of his back in quiet thanks for his support. He hears her whisper that she loves him. It makes him stand taller.

At the end of the speech, they're all pulled back inside the Justice Building. Ron is pulled away by a Capitol official – one that he recognises – and they begin to talk. Ron's handed a card. Finnick knows what it is, so he crosses the room with a small plate of sugar cubes and clears his throat, "What's going on here?"

"Nothing you don't know from experience, Odair," the official hums, "I don't have a client for you at the moment, but expect a phone call sometime soon."

He doesn't move, "Ron, I'll take your place."

"No."

He blinks and looks back at the shorter man.

"No, I'll do it..." Ron swallows and shifts uncomfortably, "I know what it is, I know what's asked of me. It's like you said, you do it or someone you love gets killed. It's not fair that everything keeps getting piled up on you – you took Annie's place and you have your own work... You're only human. Let me do my part. I'll be okay."

Finnick's throat goes dry. He says to himself that he will try and help him with what's to come, and maybe call Cashmere as well.

Before the newest Victor leaves, Finnick holds out the plate he brought with him, "Sugar cube?"

Despite his dislike for the habit and the taste, Ron takes one in memory of the girl.

* * *

Finnick seems to have worked out a pattern nowadays. He's called in to the Capitol for two weeks, and then he has two weeks at home, ever since the end of Ron's Victory Tour.

For the time he's not in District Four, he still calls Mags and Annie every night, the latter of whom is now permanently living with Mags at his request. She's not touched the morphling since the tour due to the respite in Hunger Games coverage. He still makes knots with some new rope, and he still collects secrets. But they don't just sit with him, now. He tells Haymitch if he feels they're important.

He tells Haymitch how a lot of the higher up officials keep thinking that District Thirteen exists. Haymitch confirms this, saying they've been in contact with him from time to time, and that they're waiting for something. When Finnick asks what, he's not given an answer. Probably because they're not sure, but when they see it, then they'll know.

He tells Haymitch how, because the last Hunger Games were seen as a bore by the Capitol, they're changing the rules, making it compulsory to provide heating. Not that that helps anyone from the Games that have passed. He tells him that the Capitol thinks the districts are beginning to grow restless, and that they're concerned they'll try something when they are stronger. Haymitch merely laughs at this.

He tells Annie and Mags nothing. Not one secret. The less they know, the safer they are.

Haymitch asks him one day, "If something does happen, can I count on you to fight?"

Finnick's answer surprises even himself, because it comes out so easily, "You can count on me to kill."

Maybe he is vicious – to survive, to protect what he loves.

There's a month and a half remaining until the next Reaping. Annie sweetly tries to give advice to Ron, but she clams up every time. Ron, at last, understands her; so when she stares into space, blocks her ears and starts to rock back and forth on her heels, he tries hard to bring her back. But only Finnick can.

Finnick stays close to Annie when he's home, because he feels like he's going to fall apart from his own stresses at any moment. They spend most of their days at the beach. He fishes. She makes shell necklaces. They sit in the sand and sometimes will build a castle, like children, trying to grasp what remains of happiness.

"Do you think I will ever be normal again?" Annie asks, watching a seagull bathe in the ocean.

"Normal's boring, Annie. Why would you wanna be normal?"

It's a poor attempt at humour, but it seems to do its job. She shoves him lightly, and he feigns weakness, half falling into the sand from his sitting position. She waits until he rights himself before speaking again, "It's hard not knowing when I'll just... disappear. I don't know when I will disappear. I'd just like to be how I was before the Games. Calm and happy."

"But you are calm and happy. Fugue state doesn't change who you are in your heart. I keep telling you, you are _always_ Annie, no matter how you feel. And I've told you before, I love every part of you."

Annie smiles at that and huddles closer towards him. She threads her arms around one of his, running her nails up and down his bicep. She asks about how the Capitol is treating him, and he shrugs. Then she surprises him and announces, "I want to watch the Games this year."

Finnick stares at her, "No."

"I know it will hurt, but I think I need to. It's been four years since my Games, and the Games aren't something that will just... go away. It's terrible, and it always will be. But maybe if I confront my fears, my nightmares... it might help me get better, or give me some semblance of control. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I don't want you to watch the Games," he shifts, turning to face her, "I almost lost you during Ron's Games... You just... You were so lifeless, Annie. You barely ate or drank for days. You only moved if I moved you, you barely functioned. You only came back because he had survived. I never wanna see you that way again..." he exhales, "People always say that you need me, but really, I need you. And if I lose you, Annie..."

"I think I will be alright. I'll have the morphling with me, for one. Please trust me," she smiles, "Besides, you'll be there with me, won't you? Sitting between me and Mags with your sugar cubes?"

Finnick still can't say no to Annie. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, "You always disappear, Annie. But you always come back. And I will always be here."

* * *

Annie disappears – both mentally and physically – a week before the Reaping.

Only Finnick and Ron are looking for her, because the time she chose to vanish was in the dead of night. Finnick didn't want Mags, who had come to wake them, to exhaust herself; and it was wise not to wake the other Victors just now, especially when the Games were so close.

They find her in the markets, alone, with her shell necklaces. She's unmoving, staring into space. Her hands are carefully guarding the small stack of necklaces. It almost looks like she's waiting for little kids to appear so she can give them out. She doesn't so much as blink when they stand in front of her and call her name.

Ron touches her shoulder. Distressed, she looks at him, then, followed by Finnick. Her eyes widen a little, and then she suddenly shuts them, her lips pressed together in a firm line. They wait until she opens them again, a little calmer and a little confused – normal Annie, "Why am I out here?"

"You just... left your home and came here," Ron says.

She raises a hand and rubs her face, "I'm sorry."

"Were you waiting for children?"

Annie nods and lets Finnick take the pile she brought with her. Some of the shells are chipped – she seemed to have been in a hurry – and some others are all tangled up. He can fix that for her later – knots are a specialty of his, after all. Once everything's in his arms, he says to her, "They'll be here tomorrow. For now you should go home and get some sleep."

"I can't sleep and I don't want to inconvenience Mags. I keep thinking about him... and her. And how they both died. I can't help but think maybe I could've done something better for both of them."

Her district partner, and Ron's; and how they were both beheaded.

"Well," Finnick grins, breaking the silence, "You can always inconvenience me."

The three return to the Victor's Village as quietly as they can. Ron goes back to his home, where his family appear to be relieved that Annie's okay. Mags nods appreciatively and goes back inside. Annie follows Finnick into his own house, where they sit on the sofa and begin to untangle the mess that she's made of her shell necklaces.

"I want to give each of the tributes one of my necklaces, for good luck," Annie says as she takes another untangled one and puts it on the small table in front of them, "I must've thought the Reaping was today, regardless of the time... How silly of me."

Finnick smiles softly and reaches across to kiss her on the tip of her nose. He then resumes fixing her necklaces in silence, placing the repaired ones in her lap. He notes that his movements are becoming sloppy, and that she's fidgeting less. The necklaces are staying on her lap rather than moving to the table.

"I hope something big happens this year. Something that will change the Games and make the citizens of the Capitol wake up... and make the people fight back."

Finnick hopes so too. He undoes the last knot and looks to her, finding she's fallen asleep. He ends up resting next to her and he's never felt more at home.

* * *

They are present during the Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games, but they're at the back of the stage. Ron is at the front, visibly nervous and twitching throughout the proceedings. Finnick and Annie's hands are joined behind their bodies, away from the cameras. Annie is trembling but she doesn't shy away. On the other side, Mags and the other Victors wait in a straight line. The names are pulled from the bowl and called, and there's surprisingly no begging from others to go into the Games. It seems volunteers have thinned out in the last few years.

Finnick again doesn't take note of any names, but instead watches as Annie leaves him to help the newly designated tributes to Ron, who's clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides. She produces a shell necklace each for them, just like she wanted to, and leads them to their mentor, almost tripping over her shoes. Finnick doesn't know if the necklaces will make a difference, but he hopes that it'll remind them of home.

He knows his does.

As Annie returns to his side, he cranes his head to the television in the Justice Building, not interested in the remaining formalities. It's showing the other districts' Reapings as his goes on. It's on Twelve at the moment. Haymitch is ageing more and more every year, and his posture is horrific – he can barely stand. His skin is almost the same colour as his eyes.

The woman from Twelve reads out the girl's name first. He frowns when it's someone clearly so very young – but then he raises his brow when a girl with long, brown hair runs out screaming, pulling the smaller girl back and away from the stage.

What she's saying is as clear as day, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

He blinks once. Twice.

That's new. That's very new, especially from District Twelve.

The crowd in Four makes a rumbling noise. He turns back to see that Ron's leading the tributes away from the stage and to the train. Finnick, Annie, Mags and the other Victors follow behind to see them off. Ron gently helps both tributes onto the train before stopping, looking back at the Victors.

Mags manages to find enough strength to speak, "Do your best."

Ron smiles a little, nods at Finnick and Annie, and then vanishes into the train and away to the Capitol.

All Finnick can think about is the volunteer from Twelve.

* * *

Finnick ends up at the Capitol because of his clients when the chariot proceedings are on. He's not at the actual event, but he's watching it from one of his client's televisions as she tries to think up some suitable secret as a means for paying him.

He fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt as he watches them go round, like he had watched Ron last year and Annie years before. Districts One and Two have, as usual, strong tributes. The two from Four look like nothing special, and surprisingly he doesn't recognise either of them. But the girl from Twelve, she is different. She's something special with the way she and her partner burst into flames.

The crowd _roars_.

"I've thought of a secret," the woman – another socialite – finally chimes.

The crowd begins to chant the girl's name – _Katniss, Katniss_ – as they had done for him – _Finnick, Finnick._ There's something hiding in her eyes, so like Haymitch's and so unlike the male tribute's. And then he laughs when Twelve's tributes hold hands, because that's something he's never seen before either, "What's your secret then, ma'am?"

She spills something about how, according to the gamemakers she parties with, the arena this year will be a forest. She throws in another secret and says that the Capitol looks to be getting bored of Snow himself and wondering what the districts are _really_ like. Finnick memorises both and notes to tell Haymitch the last one before he leaves for District Four.

She then comes up to him and runs her long fingernails through his hair, as though she's sad to watch him leave, "Because you're _extra_ special, I will send Four's tributes one can of food each for this year's Games."

"Do me a favour," he suddenly says, turning away from the television and sending her one of his winning smiles, "If one of them dies in the bloodbath, send that can to Katniss Everdeen instead. Think you can do that for me?"

She giggles and promises to do so. He kisses her hand and leaves straight for Haymitch, who he finds at the bar about to go out to his tributes. Haymitch is surprised to see him, "Anything new to tell me, peacock?"

Haymitch whistles, impressed, when Finnick tells him the new secret. Finnick then says, "Your girl, Katniss. She has potential."

"Heh, you don't need to tell me that."

When Finnick arrives back home in District Four, the smell of the sea makes him smile. It grows when he sees that Mags and Annie are waiting for him at the station. Mags holds out a fish-shaped cookie for him as a welcoming gift, and he feels like a small child, excited by the familiar treat.

"I watched the precession," Annie says, standing taller. He knows by the way she speaks that she's other Annie. Nowadays, though, it's getting harder and harder to tell. Or maybe he's stopped looking for those fugue states, "I didn't see them wearing the necklaces. Maybe they didn't like them."

They begin walking back to the Victor's Village. Finnick says, "They probably left it in their living quarters as a reminder. Remember the stylists organise how they look."

"They look a little silly in all that blue. It was hard enough to tell them apart from the sky..."

Finnick can't remember the last time Mags laughed so hard or so loud, but he knows he won't forget how it sounds here in this moment.

* * *

Ron calls him a few days after coming back from the Capitol, and the night before the Games. He doesn't think either of his tributes will come out alive. He's concerned about the boy from Two known as Cato – so strong, determined and happy to win. And then there's Katniss from Twelve.

"An eleven though in training... How? _How_ did she get that?" Ron sighs.

"How indeed," Finnick chimes.

Ron's convinced she's hiding something from everyone. Annie agrees.

Finnick can't offer much except to train his tributes hard and well, and to remember that whatever happens isn't his fault. He adds that he's heard a rumour from a client that the arena will be a forest. Ron bids him goodbye and thanks him for the advice.

He's tying and untying knots now, waiting for the Games to begin as he sits between Mags and Annie. There's a small bowl of sugar cubes in his lap. The conversation with Ron replays in his mind. Caesar is talking about statistics, about how interesting it'll be to watch these Games because they all look like good, strong, healthy contenders.

He looks to Annie, who's staring into space. There's morphling beside her, ready to go in case she suffers more than she expects. He then looks to Mags, who is simply spinning a gold ring around her finger, staring at the pictures that are playing behind the men on television. Annie soon jumps a little beside him, as though reverting back to herself.

Then Annie asks, "Finnick? Do you think that all of this is in our heads? Our problems?"

Fugue state. Nightmares. Paranoia. Fear.

"Yes, they are, but we didn't put them there. The Games created them. The Capitol enforces them. They're real," he undoes the complicated knot he'd been working on, sinks in the seat and looks to her from the corner of his eyes, "But we'll be able to conquer them one day."

Finnick thinks back to years ago, when Annie first came back from fugue state. He thinks about the way his hand felt on top of hers and Mags'. How it was comforting, and how they got through, and are still getting through the pain, the memories; how they're waiting for what's to come.

The way the world is shifting... he hopes it's good. He could use something good.

Finnick puts the rope down and takes Annie's hand in his left one, and Mags' hand in his right one. He squeezes them tightly, watching the countdown for the 74th Hunger Games; and then he raises them up and kisses the backs of both. His anchors.

The tributes run to the Cornucopia, as they always do. He hopes that someone from his district will survive, as he always does.

But just _looking_ at Katniss, he knows. He knows those two from Four will never wander the markets again, or feel the sea surround their feet, like many before them. They will never feel the sand slip between their fingertips or hear the cry of a hungry seagull. They won't leave that arena.

"Well Girl On Fire," he smirks, "Let's see what you can do."

* * *

**END**

* * *

Still can't believe this got away from just being a oneshot. I'll hopefully be posting more THG stuff soon. Thank you for the support!


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